


The Return of Scongo the Unwise

by notveryhandy



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen, Looms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24019432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notveryhandy/pseuds/notveryhandy
Summary: In a small town with a terrible name, literally nothing is happening. Look to the left. That’s-*blows up*
Comments: 15
Kudos: 8
Collections: Scongo is the Best Villain





	1. Scongo Once More

**Author's Note:**

> No I will not explain.

Chad stood in the little town of CreativeEnglishnamefordshire. It was... dull. Incredibly dull. He might well die of boredom if he stayed here any longer. “Scongo! Hurry up!”

From the right emerged a tall, memeworthy man who looked like he needed a haircut. “Am I late? I was playing chess with the Doctor, sorry.” He was indeed holding a chess piece. 

“Yes, but if so where’s the Doctor?”

“Keeping track of the Doctor is your job,” Scongo pointed out. “I’m the villain of this plot, you idiot.”

“...am I not meant to be the villain?”

“Ha! You pompous fool! Everyone knows that-”

“Scongo’s the best villain,” he finished automatically. “But aren’t you from the old show?”

“No, if I get this right I should be able to return,” he grinned. “Then again, I hear the future Doctor is a bit of a bore. Keeps on... snogging people?”

“How should I know? I stopped paying attention at the bit where my attention span was required. I’m stumbling through this story blind. Stupid author won’t even let me ask the, some questions!”

He huffed, and sat down on the most boring bench this side of East Texas. Which was odd, because East Texas was nowhere near them. “For the love of god, can you _please_ get a haircut?”

“No,” Scongo said shortly. “Anyway, I need to go now.”

“Why?” Chad asked.

He shrugged. “The author got bored, I think.”

There was a beep. _The author has left the building._

Almost everything bar East Texas and Chad vanished. “Well fuck.”

_Dear viewers, Scongo the Unwise has returned in a brief cameo. He will next be seen in Day of the Scongo, airing sometime in the past/future._


	2. The Day of the Scongo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chad keeps on turning up. Gallifrey keeps on burning. Who’s to blame?

The Master stared at Gallifrey. “Doctor, why is our planet covered in Cheeto dust?”

The Doctor shrugged. “I don’t make the rules, sorry.”

Behind them was the sound of creating floorboards. This was meant to be creepy but, given the house they were in, (the Creaky Floorboards of Rassilon) it really wasn’t.

“Who burnt our planet, Doctor?”

He shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t keep track of who committed Gallicide every other second. Also, why do you even care?”

“It gives me deep and complex motivations to be part of this story,” he said with the Deep Homoerotic Tension of Rassilon, despite there being no need for it.

“What?”

“Oh, Sam didn’t give you fourth wall privileges. Shame, I think you would have liked them.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” He strode out of the Creak House of Rassilon. “Shall we go crash capitalism?”

“No thanks,” said the Doctor. “I’d like to investigate. See you next time!”

The Master died, because how else are you meant to temporarily get rid of them? Let them run away, like a normal person? Nah.

* * *

The Doctor sighed. “I,” he began, feeling more than a little stupid. “I know you’re there. Yes, I know that’s terribly cliché of me, but could you please explain why Gallifrey burnt?”

The air hummed with the Dramatic Atmosphere of Rassilon. “No,” the voice rasped.

“Okay, could you at least come out of the shadows? We’re not in a horror movie.”

_The author would like to point out that they might well be. I mean. How do you know? Hm? Hmmmmm? HMMMMMMMM?!_

“No.”

That was unhelpful. “Fine. I’ll just Dorito Gallifrey until you give in.”

At that their voice broke. “No! You can’t _Dorito_ Gallifrey. Cheeto Gallicide is the _only_ acceptable option!”

“Who are you, anyway?”

“I am the Great One. The Deliverer of Mail. The Hurricane, the Plot Point of Rassilon. I am...”

The Doctor sighed. Not another Scongo copycat, surely.

“CHAD!”

The Doctor trembled. Now that, that was truly terrifying.

His phone beeped.

“Ooh, an email from Scongo! It says...” He sighed deeply. “‘Hey motherfucker, I burnt Gallifrey.” Unoriginal. So cheap. No sir, no flair, no drama. He just... Cheetoed it.”

Chad recoiled in disgust. “That’s just not how things are done! Maybe the Time War took its toll.”

_Actually, that might be it._

“Do you hear something?” the Doctor asked.

“Sam,” said Chad, “you really need to give the Doctor Fourth Wall access.”

_Shut up._

“No.”

“Who are you talking to?” the Doctor asked.

“Never mind! Go back to guilt-tripping babies, or whatever you usually do!”

“Guilt-tripping babies? Might be worth a try.” 

Chad groaned. “Please kill me.”

_Sure thing. It should be noted now that the author is doing what they usually do: killing characters._

Chad died. “Mood,” the Doctor said.

_OwO._


	3. The Evil Scongoverse Is CORRUPTED!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CLEM GET THE FUCK OUT THIS STORY. YOU WERE NOT INVITED.

_Ahem._

“What?” 

_You weren’t invited, Clem._

“Yes I was. See, I have an invite here.”

_That just says “I can do what I want.”_

“Exactly! Now why am I. Tied to. A chair.”

Dead silence.

“Sam?”

Somebody else spoke up. “It’s fine. They probably forgot.”

_The author has no comment._

“Who are you?”

“Winter,” the voice said. “I’m a ghost.”

“Why?” Clem asked, “were you being cursed?”

“No, that was you. That’s why you’re in here. Right, Sam?”

_Still no comment._

“What the fuck? Sam, you can’t lock us in here with no explanation.”

There was a loud crash from behind them, and a somewhat hyper Ryan appeared from behind the door.

_Two things. 1) Sorry about the chair, 2) go to sleep Ryan._

“No!”

_On second thoughts: vibe check._

Where there had previously been a ghost and Ryan was now a pile of ashes. Clem looked at the ashes, and then back at wherever the author was meant to be. “How did you burn a ghost? You can’t burn ghosts.”

_Vibe check._

“Also, why?”

_Ryan should’ve been sleeping._

Another voice, this time from the left. “Hey.”

“Oh, hi Enfys. Are you here for any reason?”

“I was looking for a Weeping Angel!”

“...Should you be asleep?”

“Nope!”

_Sleep motherfuckers._

“Do you like my new scarf?”

“Ah!” they yelled at the same time. “I-”

_Samecell._

Winter looked at both of them. “Are you alright?”

“You got blasted to ashes! Along with Ryan!” 

_What’s your point, Enfys?_

“What is death.”

At that point Death arrived. “Hello, hoes.”

_Well, there’s your answer. That’s your cue, Clem._

“Hang on,” somebody said, although by this point it could have been anyone, except maybe Rassilon. “Am I missing something? Or is this...”

“Jo!”

_Actually that’s Lily. Jo is to your right._

“Can I kiss death now?”

That would be Clem, then.

_Of course._

“Lilyyyyyyyyy! And... a ghost with a scarf, sure!” Enfys really needed to _sleep._

“Actually,” pointed out Jo, “everyone is Frobisher.” She promptly turned into Frobisher.

“So Clem is kissing Frobisher?” Lily asked.

**VIBE CHECK!**

_Fuck. A Weeping Angel._

“But Weeping Angels don’t talk.”

_Shut up Frobisher, this is my story._

**HA!**

_Sorry, Enfys. Better luck next time._

“Vibe checked by a Weeping Angel. What a way to go.”

Clem, Lily and ~~Jo~~ Frobisher shrugged. It is what it is.

_Except when it isn’t._

**VIBE CHECK!**

And with that everyone except Winter vanished, because you can’t touch ghosts.

_What the fuck._


	4. The Distant Sounds Of Regicide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christopher Eccleston is interrupting Scongo’s haircut. There are bees.
> 
> Welcome to hell.

Had Scongo been in a better frame of mind, he might have noticed the honey dripping down the Master’s hair. And the fact that there was a persistent buzzing. As it was, he just really wanted a haircut.

_Yeah, sorry about that. Lol._

“Er. Hello? Yes, I would very much like a haircut. Is that too much to ask?”

The Master grinned nastily. “I have a bee revolution to lead. Also, have you seen Chris?”

“Chris Who?”

“Actually, it’s Doctor Who, but never mind that,” he said, licking his fingers. “Look, the point is I want to meet a working class hero.”

_Good luck (as the author I’m rooting for you)._

“Can you tell the narrator to stuff it? _Rassilon,_ their voice is irritating, and I’ve listened to nine-year-long lectures from the Doctor.”

At that particular moment, Scongo decided to leave.

* * *

Out of nowhere appeared a shop, with a nice quaint little sign that said ‘Open’, although what exactly was quaint about it was hard to quantify. Perhaps it was simply the fact that the shop resided in a -

_Wait, I haven’t described the scenery, have I?_

“No,” muttered Scongo, “you haven’t. If you could please give me something to stand on?”

_Sorry, my keyboard’s broken. Hang on._

Five hours later, after not really existing for a bit, reality returned. The village Scongo had, for inexplicable but _very_ important reasons, arrived in, suddenly materialised. It was a quaint little place, very much inspired by the Bee Movie (Part Two) and the Star Wars Holiday Special, which was to say that critics widely ignored it.

It was peaceful and calm and inherently judgemental, as all cosy little English villages have been discovered to be by a researcher name Daniela Obnoxicus, who appreciated that sort of thing greatly. It gave off an air of quaintness that everybody wants but nobody gets, because England.

Scongo sighed, and walked into the (covered in bees) barbers shop. “Hey!” he called, the room echoing in the way a barbers’ shop usually didn’t, the room filling with swirling and rather lame copies of his voice.

“If this is you again-”

A blonde fell out of the sky, which whilst normal for, say, America, did not usually happen in Insertprettyvillagenamehere, a town not renowned for its blondes or its sky.

Scongo sighed.

* * *

The blonde, as it turned out, was neither the Doctor nor the Doctor; it was the Doctor.

_Should be noted that Six is still pissed at - ow! Stop hitting me!_

“Would you like a haircut?” she offered, “or a jelly baby?”

She gave off an aura of someone who didn’t have an aura, because auras aren’t a thing and that’s just cliché. At that, Scongo snapped. “How dare you fall out of the sky, waltz right into the village that for some reason I’m in, and offer me what I was looking for? That is inexcusable!”

“...what?”

Scongo sighed, grabbed a pair of scissors from the table, and just lopped off all the hair he didn’t want.

_Jeez, calm down. “Messy rebel” doesn’t suit you, dude._

“I don’t care!” he shrieked, “why do you all hate me?”

_We don’t._

“[No comment.]”

_How did you say that out loud? Tell me!_

“I don’t know!” The Doctor stomped out, because apparently being asked questions was the final straw. “And don’t ever ask me about how I talk or my emotional state ever! Do you hear me? Ever!” 

_Sigh._

* * *

Christopher Eccleston did not approve of bee revolutions, but he did approve of helping mass murderers crash capitalism, so that was alright then.

“Doctor!” yelled the Master. “Want to join me with crashing capitalism?”

_Shut it, bitch boy._

“Agreed,” said Chris. _I’m calling him Chris now. He’s my friend._

Had the Tenth Doctor been there, he might have commented. As it was, not much happened. “Can we at least overthrow the US?” the Master asked. “Also find my Doctor. He’s on Gallifrey, I think.”

“Sure, but if you try and backstab me I’ll shit on your planet.”

_Oh, go ahead. By the way, it’s Scongo time!_

At that point, a portal opened and - again - somebody fell out of the sky. There was no particular reason, and the teleport spell looked like a bad PowerPoint animation effect, but Scongo was there, holding on to his bongos.

* * *

Chris and the Master ran off to finish their bee revolution (and bug Ten), leaving only Scongo and a room full of honey. He licked the walls.

_Ew, that’s bee cum you’re eating._

“>:(” Scongo said, somehow managing to speak an emoji. This universe had an enormous habit for it. “That’s Clem’s job.”

_Clem?_

“Form the last chapter!”

_Oh, right. Should I un-blast-to-ashes Ryan so he can show up (or at least Chad)?_

“Fine without that Oedipus, thanks.”

_Wh-_

“Motherfucking Chad. By the way, thanks for granting me a haircut. I appreciate it.”

_Cool! Enjoy your bee cum!_

“Why do I hear screaming in an RP accent? Who goes around killing grandmothers?”

_Ah, the distant sounds of regicide._

“Wh - oh, I give up. So how does this end? Are you going to tie up all the loose knots?”

_It ends on a cliffha_


	5. One hot Sec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some dude called Nate arrives. Ushas and Brian are introduced. Welcome... to...
> 
> Sorry, I forgot where we were.

“Hi,” said Nate, arriving in the most original fashion possible. “I feel like I started this story off with a bang.”

There was a rustling from the cupboard, and Scongo peered out. “You know it’s 3am and the plot hasn’t started yet?”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re half-naked! Sorry, should I come back later?”

_Fuck. Haven’t been this lost since the RTD/Moffat incident._

“There are people who ship - oh, never mind. Is Chad here yet?” Scongo asked. “We’re meant to be going on a date in eight hours.”

“Uh, I saw Brian on the way out.”

“What did he say?”

“Something like, ‘Doctah/Mastah 4evah, b1tch3s!’ It was hard to tell under all the typos.”

“No, don’t-”

The room went up in flames. “Don’t say it again. Any typos will summon Brian, and we don’t want th...”

The door opened again, and Scongo gestured vaguely at the door. “It’s your turn to leave. Iris Wildthyme’s DOWN-WITH-CIS bus will be hear in,” he checked his watch, “one hot Sec.”

“She keeps her bus in Daley Sec?”

“Yeah, and he’s on fire - oh, don’t look at me like that, Nate.” Scongo sighed. “You can come in, visitor.”

In came a young woman who could’ve looked like anything, because the author didn’t do their research.

“Why are you in my bedroom _again?_ Scongo, why is _everyone_ in my bedroom?”

At that point Nate decided to interrupt. “Oh my god, Ushas, you can’t just ask someone why they’re in your bedroom!”

_MEAN GIRLS TIME!_

Now would’ve been the perfect moment for a) Winter or b) Koschei to enter, but Koschei missed the deadline and ghosts don’t pay attention to schedules.

_Winter you’re late to my fic. HURRY THE FUCK UP._

With completely unimpeccable (peccable?) timing, Winter appeared, ghostly and wraithlike and five other adjectives which mean dead and transparent.

_Tracing paper is also dead and transparent._

“Can you please get out of my bedroom!” Ushas shrieked.

“Ooh, someone’s a little tetchy,” Scongo muttered. 

“On Wednesdays we wear pink,” Winter added helpfully.

“No we don’t,” Ushas snapped. “I wear red and orange, and you’re a ghost, so you don’t wear clothes.”

“Fine.” Winter vanished, along with Summer, Autumn and Spring. Who weren’t even there in the first place.

_Was that funny?_

“No. Stop asking for validation from fictional characters,” Ushas sniped.

“But I’m not fictional!” Nate protested.

“Or are you?”

“I’m really not!”

_Shame._

“Ffs,” said Ushas.

“NO!” said Scongo. “Don’t summon-”

Brian appeared. “Yas bitches! It’s me time!”

“Rassilon, can you please shut up?”

“RA RA RASSILON!” he sang loudly.

_Ava, now would be a great time for you to arrive._

There was a loud clang and several random sound effects as Ushas threw plates. “Can somebody call Iris Wildthyme so I can leave quicker?”

_No? Fine._

“I’m... going to go.” Nate trudged off wearily into the distance, seemingly forgetting this was crack, not angst. 

_Bitch, I’m trying to write a parody here._

Scongo left before he could be memed out of existence or typoed to death, and Ushas cried as reality ate her bedroom.

_No, as her bedroom ate reality. Haven’t you been paying any-_

“SHUT UP!”

_Scongo will be retu-_

“AS IN, STOP TALKING BEFORE I DISSECT YOUR MOUTH!”

_Sexy - no don’t hit **me** with a plate! It’s Scongo you want!_

*various crashing noises*

_Fine, I’ll stop. Did you know Osgood is Jewish?_

“AARRGHH!” And with that, Ushas strangled the universe.

_Fuck._


End file.
